Chapter Text
Jirou sat on the sofa lazily strumming on her guitar as she tried to work out a good chord progression for the new song she was writing. It had been a few years now since the first time she had hastily scribbled down a motif across her hipbone. Lamenting that it would be the first time she’d contacted her soulmate, she’d written it in a strange place in the hopes it would go unnoticed. If she’d had anything else to write the few notes down on she would have but it was a desperate situation where she knew this exciting new idea would soon be forgotten if she didn’t make a note of it.
Unfortunately, or so she had thought at the time, her soulmate had noticed and the next morning she awoke to swirling cursive across her forearm saying they really enjoyed the music and wondered what rhythm Jirou would be using.
A couple of hours later two staves appeared on her arm along with carefully drawn notes arranging the quirky guitar riff that Jirou had envisioned into a flowing classical melody. It ended in an interrupted cadence and underneath her soulmate had written ‘Your turn – Momo’ and that was how their exchanges had begun.
The amount of time Jirou spent agonising over her replying phrase was embarrassing looking back. She poured through endless sheet music, wondering how to arrange it so that it was readable for the sophisticated pianist she guessed Momo was from those few bars. It wasn’t that she didn’t like classical music, she really enjoyed it in fact and some composers were hardcore back in the day, but she wanted to write something that would represent her so Momo could read into it just as she had done.
That evening she had settled begrudgingly on acoustic guitar, deciding it would flow better from instrument to instrument, and transcribed her newest composition along with the word ‘guitar’ at the beginning and the words ‘How’s this? – Kyouka’ at the bottom.
From then on they continued sending messages to each other through music. The ranging melodies and complex harmonies expressed so much more than words ever could. Jirou used as many different instruments and ensembles as she could, becoming more creative and outgoing as her confidence in front of Momo grew while Momo usually stuck to piano sometimes adding a string or wind melody on top to play off. She would often say a certain instrument represented Kyouka and the other represented herself which made Jirou blush. In turn, Jirou would point out certain motifs or chord progressions that represented things about them which were slightly more complex to notice but once Momo knew what to look for she was enthralled in how many hidden messages Kyouka wrote into the music just for her. Momo was her muse and she showed her gratefulness for that through these kind sentiments as offerings.
The sixteen bars they had first written together became ‘their song’ and over the two years they had been talking they must have made hundreds of alterations and arrangements of less than a minute of music. For their ‘anniversary’ Jirou had composed a full song based off of it and that was counted as ‘their song’ if anyone asked but the original was still their true melody in their eyes. Even if Jirou secretly preferred versions with the melody going in a different direction or a few different chords underneath, their song was still special.
They had waited a year to exchange numbers and now texted almost constantly, sharing little snippets about their day and their friends. Jirou had arranged 8-bit recordings for both halves of their phrase to set as a special ringtone for both of them. Kaminari had called her a nerd but Momo loved the idea and that was all Kyouka cared about.
Plus the extra annoyance at Kaminari that day meant she had no trouble recounting all of the most embarrassing stories she had about him to Momo and she was rewarded with an angelic tinkling laugh. Win-win, really.
Although they had talked for years, Jirou had still only ever seen a few photos of Momo and on one occasion video chatted with her. The subject of meeting never really came up and when the conversation felt like it could go in that direction Momo would always casually change it. At this point, Jirou wasn’t sure if she was just putting it off or didn’t want to meet at all. It was slightly worrying. Still, Momo was as lovely and affectionate as ever so it was probably just because she wasn’t ready yet…Jirou hoped.
Interrupting her trail of thoughts the front door opened and Kaminari trudged in, a bright yellow bandana tied low across his forehead and long knitted jumper hanging off the his arms where the sleeves were too long.
“Aye aye, captain. What the fuck are you wearing?” Jirou asked, already planning how she would describe this to Momo later.
“You’re going to fucking love this,” groaned Kaminari, slumping down on the sofa next to her and peeling off the bandana to reveal bold capital letters across his forehead reading ‘FUCKING IDIOT’. Jirou’s eyes widened in glee as he shook his head. “I’m not done.”
He tugged the jumper over his head and more curses and insults were written getting gradually more colourful and creative the further she got down his arms. The thick black lines were even visible through the thin white material of his shirt meaning he would have had no choice but to find a jumper to cover himself up in the middle of a summer heat wave.
“Nice sweat patches, by the way. My favourite is ‘drooly dumb ass piece of shit’,” Jirou laughed, making Kaminari roll his eyes. “So when did this happen?”
“Oh y’know just half way through the fucking meeting with my favourite author whose visit to our store I’ve been looking forward to for four months. Right in the middle of when I was talking to him so I wasn’t paying attention to my co-workers telling me that my soulmate was writing on my fucking face.”
“And they knew?”
“Of course they knew! I even showed them the outfit I wanted to wear because I was nervous and look how he’s written less after the sleeves start.” He dragged his hands down his face. “Why am I soulmates with that arsehole?”
“Okay but what did you do to make him so pissed at you in the first place? He must’ve planned this.” Kaminari pouted. “Also what’s that red patch on your arm?”
“Oh, I think Kiri felt bad for me and tried to scribble some words out but he used fucking red pen so it obviously didn’t work. Then I feel like Bakugou took advantage of that and told him to draw blush on my cheeks, didn’t you notice?”
“Dude, you’re literally like a tomato right now. How am I supposed to tell?”
“Right. I’m having a shower then crawling into a hole to read my new pile of signed books and die.”
Ten minutes later Jirou had still made no progress on her love song and Kaminari was back and ready to distract her. Sighing, Jirou put down her guitar. A break to chat couldn’t hurt.
“So they were both together, you think?” she asks.
“Oh yeah, definitely. Bakugou wouldn’t want to embarrass his precious boyfriend now would he? Fucking arsehole. They probably took the day off to spend it together,” Kaminari finished bitterly.
“Wow so your true colours show at last. It only took utter humiliation, too. I’ll keep that in mind in future.” Kaminari only frowned at her so she decided to state the obvious. “You’re jealous.”
“What? No I’m not,” he said, the pitch of his voice rising as he avoided eye contact then reluctantly looked back to Jirou. “Fine. I know it was just a coincidence that Kirishima told us where he was moving for work and Bakugou happened to already live there but it’s annoying that I’m left out and neither of them have even bothered to try and meet me. There. You’re in the same boat with your rich girlfriend not wanting to see you so you can’t judge.”
That was a mistake. Jirou grabbed her earphones from the table next to her and whipped them across Kaminari’s arm.
“Ooh, I see someone’s not so happy with their soulmate either,” he said whilst rubbing out the sting on his forearm.
“I’m not annoyed with Momo, Kaminari.” He didn’t look impressed. “You know I’m fucking head over heels for her so I want to meet! If she’s not ready that’s fine. I’ll never force her to do anything she doesn’t want to.”
“Yeah but isn’t it a bit dodgy that over two years she hasn’t even mentioned it and has snubbed you each time you tried?” he said, then immediately back pedalled when he saw the distraught expression on Jirou’s face. “I mean, not that I think there’s anything wrong with her! I just wanna look out for you. You’re one of my best friends and I’d have to set Bakugou on Momo if she did anything to hurt you.”
Jirou smirked slightly and shook her head.
“You let that dickhead anywhere near my Momo and I might have to reconsider your best friend status,” she warned. “I guess we’re both just losers whose soulmates don’t want them.”
Kaminari snorted.
“Yeah except yours is an angel and mine are a devil and, hm, okay another angel. We might actually be pretty lucky.”
They spent the rest of the evening self-deprecating and eating chocolate while Jirou’s fingers strummed absent-mindedly at her guitar. Muscle memory finding easy pathways back to familiar chord sequences while her heart longed for something more.